In Pursuit of Sound
by Fledglingwriter
Summary: Zuko realizes that he has betrayed his Uncle, but is unsure where to go from there.


"Uncle, I'm sorry."

Zuko stared at his reflection in the refined Earth Kingdom glass. He felt sincere, but he didn't look it. And he didn't sound it. Turning away from the mirror, he pulled off the crown that Azula had presented him with after Ba Sing Se had been taken. He slipped out of his reds and golds, letting them muddle on the floor. From his closet he pulled the simple, dull clothing he'd worn as a peasant. As a tea server. Pulling it on, with the wide brimmed hat to cover his scar, he headed to the window. "Uncle, I'm sorry..."

No, it still wasn't right. Perched on the ledge, he leapt through the air, catching a limb in his hand and scrambling to gather his balance. Once he was in the tree, climbing down was easy. Passing out of the inner walls of Ba Sing Se was easy, he just slipped in with some food deliverers and was out the gate.

Leaving the middle ring was even easier. Then he was in the rough streets of the "artisans." Though the air stank of close quarters and mobs of unwashed people, it cleared his head. "Uncle--"

"Mommy, I'm sorry." Glancing to his left he saw a small girl kneeling in front of a broken vase. Tears were streaming down her face, and she was trying to stick the pieces back together, in the process, slicing her hands on the sharp shards. The girl's mother lifted the girl into her arms, using one free hand to press the bleeding hands to her chest to stop the blood. "It's okay dear, it was a mistake."

It hadn't been a mistake. He'd made the decision. Turning from the all too apparent scene, he continued moving down the street. But everywhere he turned he saw Uncle: men drinking tea, playing pai-cho, even the blooming of a exotic flower caused him to hesitate.

He was jostled from his thoughts as a man was pushed into him. Looking up, a large shopkeeper was looming over the pushed man. "I saw you steal my cabbage. Give it back or I'll break your back."

"I--I didn't steal anything," the cowering man stuttered.

"Right." The shopkeeper lifted the man off the ground and shook him until several vegetables feel from the baggy pants, one of which was a cabbage. "I seem to have proof otherwise."

Zuko let the fight vanish behind him as he continued to walk on, but now he found himself walking back towards the inner gates. The shopkeeper had been right. Saying something was different than doing something.

Zuko ducked down a back alley, scrambled up to a rooftop and began his carefully planned path to the Middle class wall, and then to the inner wall. Soon he was scrambling into his window and throwing the peasant clothes into his closet.

Dressing quickly, he shoved on his crown-piece as he stepped from his room, heading down the halls and stairs that would lead him to Uncle's cell. Approaching the guard at the end of the hall with a casual, "I've come to see General Iroh."

The guard hesitated a moment, even as Zuko began to walk past, "Prince Zuko, sir, he's not in his cell anymore."

Zuko turned, trying to hide his wide-eyed surprise. "Where is he?"

"Princess Azula took him to be executed, about an hour ago."

Zuko turned and walked stiffly from the hall, but once he turned the corner, he sprinted toward the throne room. Before entering he gathered up his grace, caught his breath and stepped in. Azula had a monkey tied to a chain attached to the floor in front of her. She would offer the monkey food, and then shoot a spark of fire at it. The room already stank of singed fur, but the starving creature still was lured back by the food.

"Azula, the guard tells me that you moved Uncle."

"He lied, brother."

"That's what I thou--"

"I took him to be executed."

He shouldn't have been surprised. Zuko had been expected a strike from her at any moment, but had always though the attack would come directly at him. "You haven't!"

"Yes. About half an hour ago. He seemed sad that you weren't there to see it. I stopped by your room, but you weren't in."

He could never say he was sorry to Uncle. He would never be offered sage advice, or tea, or music night again. But he knew there was one thing he could do to show Uncle how very sorry he was.


End file.
